


The Woman Who Couldn't Smile

by TomKurbikston



Category: British Actor RPF, British TV Celebrities RPF, Magnus Martinsson - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:17:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomKurbikston/pseuds/TomKurbikston
Summary: Svea Helin is bipolar. However, this weakness could be a real strength when it comes to her work: policewoman in Stockholm. What will happen when she is forced to pair with her ex: Magnus Martinsson. When his presence brings back memories.





	1. PART 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: oral sex, penetration. Mention of suicide and death.
> 
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: You wanted smut, I give you smut! However, as usual, I tried to build a story with hard emotions and a bit of meaning. This is all made up, so I hope nobody will be offended by my imagination. This is my own mixture between Wallander TV series with a hint of Bron/The Bridge, where the heroin suffers from a psychiatric disease. Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen. .

I thought I had found peace in my life again, that I had reached a sort of stability. I even thought I was staring to forget, to be healed. But in a fraction of second I understood how wrong I was. It happened that fateful day in my boss’s office. My past hit me directly where it hurts the most.

That day, I was coming back from a crime scene on which I spend hours examining and collecting useless information. A woman had been found lifeless in an empty building in the centre of Stockholm. It was the third in less than two months, and the police still didn’t have any clear evidence. I was locking my gun into the lowest drawer of my desk when my boss, superintendent Hans Petterson, asked me to come in his office. That was an unusual request. He often preferred to talk to me after the working hours. Within a more private conversation, he could at last play his role of Godfather – he was a friend of my father – and posed personal questions about my health or simply take a moment for a careful recommendation. Respectively, I followed him to his office. When he opened the door, I saw him, my husband: Magnus Martinsson. He was leaning against the wall and he barely looked at me.

He had changed. Ten years would transform any man. Regardless, I remembered the first time I met him in Ystad, on the Baltic Sea, 40 miles from Malmö. We had talked on the phone, the previous day. He had called and made an enquiry about a golden neckless. I had recognised this jewellery because it belonged to a young Spanish girl who was reported missing. This disappearance intrigued me as the other vanishing of seven other teenaged refugees whose files were buried into the archives of Interpol. I was the only person who had paid intention to those so-called incidents. So, Interpol’s leadership gave me the authorisation to fly to Sweden to see what I could discover.

I was waiting in the lobby of Ystad police station when I noticed a tall blond man walking down the stairs. Initially, he seemed reluctant to answer my questions, but he finally let me consult on their case. He was around 25 at that time. His face was sweet as an angel, and his fluffy curls made him even more cherubic, although his voice was definitely all male, deep and husky. Contrastingly, his manners were rather rough and he was often grumpy. Nowadays, he appeared less scally, sadder maybe. He cut his hair short and his once curly locks darkened. Wrinkles surrounded his eyes so his gaze came across as more intense. His designer stubble showed him as mid-thirties, more experienced and possibly more wounded. In time, he stared at me with his light-blue eyes, but his face remained impassive. Nothing surfaced out of him.

“Detective Martinsson,” began Petterson, “I think you know, Svea Helin from Interpol, as your respective files mentioned that you are married.”

Magnus just nodded and Petterson kept on.

“I also learned that you filed for divorce! a detail that my goddaughter seems to have forgotten to tell me! Nevertheless, the Head of the Police Department recommended Magnus to join our team. Svea, as you know, we are short staffed. So my question is, could you work together?”

“Magnus is an excellent cop. He will certainly be an added value to the group.” I nervously said as my thumb’s nail was digging into my first finger.

“That’s not what I’m asking. I don’t need you to be politically correct. Could you work together or will this create havoc in your personal life?”

I meant what I said. Magnus became a talented policeman. Learned hard and fought to get a position in Stockholm. Entering the criminal department was

everything he had wished for. I wondered what could I tell Petterson, and if I was I strong enough to see Magnus every day, yet?

“In the past we collaborated well, and we managed to hide our relationship for more than a year to our colleagues. We surely could do it again.” Intervened Magnus.

As I listened to my soon to be ex-husband, I was able to guess his feelings and thoughts on this matter, it was like a silent plead. He wanted to have his promotion and work in this department, my department.

He went on, “Svea, you were the one who said we could hide. You were the one who said we could be professional.”

“Magnus is right, we could do it.” I confirmed.

“OK, that fine with me. But don’t tell the others. I don’t want them to speculate and make a fuss. Just do your job or Detective Martinsson will have to go back to the vice squad.” Petterson concluded and threw us out of his office.

I exited with Magnus on my heels. He trailed me into the corridor and stopped.

“Do you truly believe that I am a good cop?” He asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“I may have learned a lot watching you.”

I tried to draw a smile, yet I didn’t answer. I didn’t notice that I was ritually fiddling with my thumb’s nail, again.

“Maybe we should have a coffee some day and chat. It would be lovely.” He said.

“Maybe we should have a strict professional relation.” I harshly replied. This was so unlike me that I added, “Welcome to the team, Magnus.”

***

Before we became a couple, I used to be steadfast and serious around him. I behaved like a true cop in spite of the effect he had on me. I managed to resist his charm and even refuse his offer for a drink. But my attraction didn’t decrease, contrariwise. To keep him at a distance, I tried to scare him off and justify myself. I had to tell him about me. So that summer's night, during a power failure we were working late. Ystad police station had no electricity, no computer and the cafeteria’s refrigerator were getting warm. We ended up sitting on the floor, leaning on the wall, and drunk the Coke from the fridge. That is how he succeeded in having his drink with me. In the dim light of the midnight sun, I shared my secret. The perpetual sun converted northern night into suspended moments, where no one could sleep and was eager to confession. I revealed that I was manic-depressive, that I wasn’t a person to have a glass or two with or to go out with. I told him that my work meant the world to me. I said that our boss at that time, Kurt Wallander, was aware of my bipolarity, and that he specifically asked for my contribution in his unit as Interpol binding agent. He promised to hold my secret and stay remote, but appeared to be protective anyway.

Currently, here in Stockholm, the team needed Magnus's qualities and expertise, especially now. I honestly believed I would be able to work by his side, pretending that nothing happened. But in reality, the daily routine was complicated. I could barely concentrate. His presence still effected me. I left him, two years ago,

and set him free for a reason. He merited better than me. Today, I didn’t miss him! I wanted him far away! I was afraid to suffer again, to go down again. Oh God, I mortally knew this hole. A place where only darkness surrounded you, where your body is tortured, where your soul got lost, and your mind couldn't think anymore. You are knocked down, and can’t stop the madness from consuming you, like a starving demon. And yes, being close to Magnus distressed me more than I was ready to endure. He brought back memories and the pain that goes with it. Yes, I wanted Magnus to move away, because I was scared that the devil will recognise him and eat me over.

I remembered that Magnus used to be my saviour. Despite his moody temper, he developed treasures of patience holding me, keeping me safe. He was my anchor and kept me swimming, my head above the water. When my treatment betrayed me, or that fate hit me harsher than usual, he was the light in the tunnel.

He also allowed me to be bold and free. I could act nutty and reckless with him without turning into a fool. My fears were soothed. I was able to take risk with him and for him. My thoughts were under control. He made me feel alive, feel like a real woman.

In reality, our covert affaire began during a particular mission. We were locked in a basement sitting around a hacked computer when the end of the world was about to happen. There was nothing we could do anymore. The computer was ready to download a virus that could change the face of the global economic system. It would infect international banks unless our colleagues outside found the trigger that will launch it. We were waiting, however, the sun wouldn’t set.

If you ever imagined what you would do if it were the end of the world, that could be your answer. Actually, when we received a phone call telling us that the

danger was neutralised and that this was over, we were relieved and let it go. Name it urgency, insanity or longing, but we were attracted like magnets.

We collapsed into each other, craving to touch and feel. We had waited so long, our bodies had expected that, yet we forbid it to ourselves. My fingers grabbed his frizzy gold hair, and I couldn’t stop kissing his soft lips. I let myself melt under his lithe and slender hand. He held me, tightly, kissed me, wildly and searched for my skin under my clothes. His angelic and stubborn face transformed into an impetuous and animalistic man. The cellar was dusty and sleazy, yet we couldn’t resist. Our kissed and touches were a bit clumsy and naughty, but it was so delicious.

I unbuttoned his trousers and opened the fly, to plunge my hand into his underwear and seize his impressive cock that was stiffening. He gasped when I began to rub it vigorously with my palm. He tore my shirt and moved my bra under my breasts that popped out, heavy and tensed. His hands cupped my boobs toughly and he put a whole nipple in his mouth and nibbled, licked and sucked avidly. My fingers still caught in his hair, I pulled him closer. I could sense that his cock was ready and my wetness told me how much I needed him.

He walked me to the desk, and we nearly tipped over. He shoved the computer away and sat me on the top. He reached for my pants. We were kissing again, out tongues deep, our mouth swollen and our hands hurry. I pulled a leg out of my jeans and my cotton panties, and surrounded his waist, wide open, pleading for him. He tugged me closer with his hands on my butt. I guided his cock to my pussy, and he slid into me. The sound of our clasping bodies resonated. We were alone, trapped in this cellar, yet uncontrollably entwined. He swayed his hips and frantically struck my inner wall. His body was chiselled. His rear was plump and rock-like. I felt him everywhere in me, he invaded my whole being. There was no

question, no shame. I moaned and cried. Sweat started to pearl on our bodies. A drop fell from his thick eyebrow. We rocked, clasped and groaned. We erased every frustration.

I tried to fondle my clit for more heated sensations, but he was quicker. Two fingers stroked me and that was just what I needed. I came shaking and jailing him into me. He went back and forth, harder and faster, in my tight vagina and ultimately climaxed in a roar. He jerked on my belly. We didn’t have time to use a condom.

We remained like that for a while, muted. I cleaned myself and we rearranged our clothes without looking at each other. We just left the basement, and he drove me back to the police station without a word.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Svea Helin is bipolar. However, this weakness could be a real strength when it comes to her work: policewoman in Stockholm. What will happen when she is forced to pair with her ex: Magnus Martinsson. When his presence brings back memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: oral sex, penetration. Mention of suicide and death.
> 
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: You wanted smut, I give you smut! However, as usual, I tried to build a story with hard emotions and a bit of meaning. This is all made up, so I hope nobody will be offended by my imagination. This is my own mixture between Wallander TV series with a hint of Bron/The Bridge, where the heroin suffers from a psychiatric disease. Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen. .

I was working with Magnus for three long weeks, but he didn’t flee. He stayed, did his job and wore his serious and implacable face. I used to be able to read in his mind, yet he stood expressionless. This aptitude was irritating. Wasn’t he only a little troubled or angry?

In spite of my questioning, I didn’t break. My police instinct and reflex were intact. I even came to know the easiness it was to work with a partner on whom you could rely. We had been an ideal professional match, and I found that this was still the case. Old habits came back in force. We completed each other statements, and shared our ideas. When Magnus only handled a single clue, I saw the rest of the painting. He was able to search and dig everywhere on one lead like a dog seeking for a bone. His arguments were regularly very intuitive, but I was the one who built the puzzle.

There was one point I was sure of, he was always trusting me, professionally at least. He observed me while I wandered in silence on crime scene, lost in my mind. I never was a talkative child and never used many words as an adult neither. But I could watch, and saw things that nobody saw. Perchance, this gift came with my illness, or maybe it caused it, who knows. And, furthermore, I could feel. I felt the pain around me, like a sort of empath and considered details in a space like a sort of medium. Nothing supernatural, just a weird habit that was useful in my choice of career. As temperance and caring weren’t Magnus’s specialty, he handed over me for these.

During these weeks, I finally understood that I had lied to myself for a while, I had missed working with him. And plainly, I missed being with him. I enjoyed the way he looked at me and smiled. Most of all, I unexpectedly discovered that I

could also be fine without his help. I could live without depending on him. I had climbed the last mountain alone, I had recovered in his absence. And from now on, I could be by his side without falling. Of course, I still loved him. I forever did and probably forever would. Long ago, I released him, because I loved him. But today I wasn’t sure that I made the right decision back then.

Anyway, I had to focus on our investigation. It was challenging, but the team managed to identify a potential suspect and located him. We organised a setup in an underground car park. We formed pairs hiding in our cars or vans. Karl Larson, my partner since my beginning in Stockholm, and I waited in a black Skoda parked next to the elevator. I knew him well and appreciated him during the hours of surveillance, because he didn’t like to talk. We habitually sit there and sipped cold coffee. This day was one of those.

Suddenly everything went south. Someone recognised our suspect behind the wheel of his car. He stopped and exited it. He moved confidently to the lift with no consciousness of our presence. When he sighted the white van, he had a doubt. I noticed something strange passing in his eyes. He started to run. Everyone jumped out and we aimed our weapons at him and announced our identity, “Police.” Our guy didn’t slow down and he came straight toward Karl and me with a revolver in his hand. Karl ordered him to drop his gun, yet he wasn’t fast enough. He didn’t take cover behind our car, so the man shot first. I noticed Karl falling inertly on the concrete floor and spotted the barrel of the shooter’s gun targeting me. I was shielded, and I merely heard a gunshot and the killer tumbled upward. Magnus stood behind him. He had fired.

Karl was lying down and blood pulsated out of his neck. The bullet hit the carotid, and he was losing blood quickly. I tried to stop the bleeding with my hand, but he

ullet presumably had ended in his throat. He didn’t stand a chance. He understood it was over. I could read it in his eyes. And like that, within a faction of second, the bubbled of blood into his mouth ceased. I lost a partner and a friend. That was an occupational hazard, yet a trauma for every cop.

The night went on with everyone doing their job without the possibility to grief. Magnus was debriefed straight away and finished his report on the shooting. He had to give his gun for the conventional analyses. A temporary measure, nothing to be alarmed on. He would be able to work in a couple of days following a formal evaluation.

I was allowed to take a shower at the police station and replace my t-shirt that was stained with Karl’s blood. My black jeans were damaged, yet it wasn’t visible and I had no change anyway. Then I was allowed to go home, in fact Petterson left me no choice. I would write my record for Interpol in three days. So, I had my own coerced holiday.

Numbed and tired, I was standing in the Lobby staring out of the window. It was raining heavily, the night was dark and the sparkling city lights troubled any vision. Even if I ran to the metro, I would be soaked from hair to toes. I was craving for a cigarette and my bed. My thumb’s nail was once more scraping my index.

“Do you need a lift?”

I felt soothed to hear this familiar voice behind my back, but I answered.

“No, thank you. I could wait for a lull. My station is only half a mile away.”

“I know your excuses, you drained them a long time ago.” Shyly grinned Magnus.

Of course, he remembered, how could he forget? After our steamy moment in that Ystad's basement, I tried to keep my distance. If Interpol learned about what we did, I would be sacked. Fraternisation was strictly forbidden and contractual. He accepted it and we started to act like nothing had happened, until a stormy night. Magnus met me in the lobby caught by the rain. I was living a few streets away from the police station, and my bike was outside, waiting for me, but in all likelihood already rusting. Magnus proposed to drop me off, and at first I rejected it. But, he had an umbrella, a car and a sexy smile. Come what may, we concealed our new relation for almost a year. What started as a sexual affaire turned into a wedding and eight years of love.

Today, in this lobby, he asked, “Are you going to be OK? You lost a friend and almost died!”

“I think so, yes! I am stronger than I was. Anyway, thank you for saving me.”

“Oh, I only did my job. You wore a bulletproof vest, and was safe behind the car door. Unfortunately there was no other way to stop him,” he said.

“And you, are you going to be alright?”

“No worry. Even though, I keep being sick, I assume it’s a habit that I would never lose. Perhaps it’s better like that,” he complained. “Shouldn’t you go? I could drive you home. I don’t mind. That’s what friends and colleagues are made for, isn’t it?”

“My flat is probably not even on your way.”

“I don’t care, that won’t be the first time. Come on.”

I couldn’t figure out what game he was playing. Friendship, co-workers or ex-couple with innuendos? I just followed him. I climbed into his car and indicated my address. And we realised that we would have to spend the next 30 minutes together, with so much history between us, so many things we could talk about, and plausibly preferred to avoid.

“I told you, it’s definitely not on your path.” I gawkily bantered.

“That could be worst. It’s not like I am still living in my house at the other side of Stockholm. I found a rental near the police station, to be closer. Yet, it’s a slum.”

“Just a room for the working days? Do you plan to go back home for the weekend?”

“Home? What do you mean?” he asked surprised.

“I don’t know… I became aware that you had a girlfriend. I supposed you might wish to join up with her.” I said as neutral as I could be, yet I was jealous as hell.

“Hm, you heard about that. It only lasted three months. I am all alone, again.”

“I’m sorry for you. You deserved a good person with you.” I said hiding the relief in my voice.

“Are you really sorry?” he bitterly asked. “This whole scenario, me having a more decent girlfriend was your idea, after all. Do you truly still believe into this silly idea? Did you imagine for a moment it could work?” he blurted out. “After eight years together, after everything we went through, after…”

“Stop!” I yelled to interrupt him. I covered my ears with my hands. “I don’t want to talk about that!”

He put back is deadpan mask, lips tight, and just drove in the night rain.

Between tears, I finally said, “I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, more. I only hoped you to live on and have a family. The family you couldn’t have with me.”

“You have told me the same speech two years ago. Maybe you were sincere, and maybe you still are. But guess what? It. Did. Not. Work!” He articulated staring at me.

“I was a fool, I ached, I went down. I may have made a mistake.” I wiped.

“Yes, you did! I met this cute girl. I liked her. She was the kind of woman who dreamt about a big wedding and kids. But as sweet as she was, she wasn’t you! I couldn’t love her as I loved you. I couldn’t picture spending my life with her, I always promised to spend it with you. I didn’t bother to have children. I just wanted you as you are: fragile and passionate.”

He stooped the car in front of my building and framed my face with his hands. My tears were blurring my view, but I hold on and looked at him. I figured out what he would say next, would be painful and that my heart would break. Though, I needed to hear him tell me that it was over.

“Listen to me carefully. We endured the most terrible experience. I was there. I saw you devastated. I saw you flinched and go down. I was there with you from the beginning of our story. I would have been there for this, as well. I didn’t want to loose you. Nevertheless, I was hurt too. It also happened to me. I also needed somebody to help me, to show me how to be courageous. I hoped we could

have been together to hold each other. Yet, you felt the urge to punish yourself, for whatever reason, you pushed me away. You agreed to suffer your whole existence, so I could have what you gathered I deserved. Svea, let me tell you something: you are not Fucking Mother Theresa! You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me. All I ever wanted was my wife at my side. All I ever wanted was to love my wife, as I still love her today. I never wanted this stupid divorce paper that I didn’t even open. I love you, Svea, please love me again?”

“Are you really able to forgive me?” I wept.

“I pardoned you long ago, because I know you. The true question is, could you forgive yourself?”

I stay silent. So many things had been said. So many questions remained to be answered. But the only words I could remember was that Magnus still loved me. He drew a tiny grin and said.

“Do you recall what you suggested when we arrived at your house that same rainy day in Ystad? You proposed to make me a cup of coffee and talk.”

“We hadn’t picked up this coffee, yet.” I faintly smiled, wiping my tears.

“Perhaps we should have it now. We calmly sit down and see where we could go, step by step, slowly but together.”

“I only have instant coffee.” I said and added, “Magnus… I love you too.”

He escorted me to my flat. Into the lift, we were mute. We didn’t know what to do. The moment was awkward. How were we supposed to retrieve each other after so long, and after so much pain? We simply stared at each other. He stood

with his hands in his pocket. And I was scrubbing my index with my thumb’s nail. He made a step toward me and took my hand in his.

“You are still having this bad habit. Don’t be so nervous, it’s only me.” He whispered and left a peck on the tip of my damaged fingers.

He tenderly squared my head with his long hands and brushed his lips on my mouth. He kissed me gently beginning by the corner of my mouth. The kiss deepened and we held each other close. At this instant, I seized how much I missed him. I felt secure. I felt adored.

When the elevator’s doors slid to my floor, I led him, hand in hand, to my flat, up to my bedroom. I desired his grip, his arms. I needed to touch him to be sure he was real. Although, I had a lot of things to tell him, my fingers would do the talk for the moment. Slowly, one by one, a piece of our clothing was removed. As I stared at him, I recognised his body, so smooth, so athletic. He put some muscles on. His shoulders were broader, his torso carved, his arms heftier and safer. He towered over me, holding me and kissing me. Each of his caresses and kisses brought me back to life, like every pain and every bad memory was fading. My skin got goosebumps and I freshly felt desire. I craved for him, my body thirsted for him and it remembered him. It knew where to stand, how to blend with him. My core sensed the fire of lust, as a void to be filled, warm and burning.

He delicately laid me on the bed, and took position close to me. His fingers rediscovered every inch of my skin. My body still belonged to him, and he slowly won back his property. Lovingly, he kissed and nipped my breasts, biting my nipples aware of the effect he had on me. The clumsiness of our first time was long bygone. We were experts at this game, and we didn’t forget the rules.

He kisses went lower, on my belly, my hips and my waist. My fingers were locked in his curls. His hair was trimmer, but suitably made him look older and more manly: my man that I at last retrieved.

He knelt in front of me naked. The outside city lights enlightened his mighty presence. His cerulean eyes, focused on me, shined. He kisses my ankles, my knees and my thighs. It tickled, yet he was tightly holding my leg. We giggled, our complicity was settling back. With my finger, I beckoned to him to lie on me, and he executed. We kissed while he took his legitimate place on my body, between my legs. I clung on his shoulders, pulling him closer. I needed to feel his weight on me, to feel the whole of his body, skin on skin, heart to heart. He penetrated me, with appropriate strength and the exact pace. His back and forth was steady and limber. I moaned. He groaned. I felt him into me, entirely filling me; body and soul. He bit my chin and I fondled his back down to his butt, precisely how he liked it. He learned the speed by heart. My hips followed the movement. At the perfect moment and with perfect circles, he glided a hand between us to rub my clit. My back arched and I came crying, halting. My whole body jolted. My nails dug in his flesh. Crudely, violently with a content roar, he reached his release.

I snuggled into his arms, and he rolled on the side to position my head on his chest. His hand laid on my shoulder. Our legs remained entangled. We stayed motionless still sweaty and breathing heavily. I thumbed the lobe of his ear as I used to, and we fall asleep. We stopped fighting. We stopped aching. Free and in peace.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Svea Helin is bipolar. However, this weakness could be a real strength when it comes to her work: policewoman in Stockholm. What will happen when she is forced to pair with her ex: Magnus Martinsson. When his presence brings back memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: oral sex, penetration. Mention of suicide and death.
> 
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: You wanted smut, I give you smut! However, as usual, I tried to build a story with hard emotions and a bit of meaning. This is all made up, so I hope nobody will be offended by my imagination. This is my own mixture between Wallander TV series with a hint of Bron/The Bridge, where the heroin suffers from a psychiatric disease. Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen.

It was pretty early, the sun was just starting to rise, and the city was not yet awake. I was standing in front of the window, licking the wound caused by my nail that started to bleed. The rain was hammering at the glass. I wore his white shirt. I loved having his scent on me. It was like he was still enveloping me. However he was sleeping quietly in my bed. His fist hooked the pillow. I perceived the new day coming. Another atrocity should need to be resolved, soon. Other professional debriefing and personal interrogation would turn up. I tried remaining in the moment, maintaining the future away.

Powerful arms surrounded me, and Magnus tall body hugged me. He kissed my nape. That simple move was even more intimate than any sexual contact. My balance was back. Every piece of my puzzled life fell into place under his tender grip.

“Good Morning Svea.” He whispered, “Are you feeling alright?”

“Morning! Yes, I am.” I mumbled.

“Why are you standing here alone, half-naked? You are going to get cold.”

“I just needed a moment.”

“Are you thinking about our baby?” He asked concerned.

“I don’t know…”

“That’s not an answer.” He reprehended me, “You can talk to me.”

“Yes… I saw you installed a tombstone on his grave, and you named him Povel.”

“I didn’t know how to reach you. You vanished. This had to be done. I needed it. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I like that you choose the name of Kurt’s dad. It’s a lovely gesture. And, I like to dream that our son could have been an artist.”

He seized my wrist into his fingers and turned them upward.

“Is Povel the reason for those new notches?” he asked.

“You know it’s more complicated than that!” I cried.

“So tell me!” he pleaded and caressed my scars with his thumbs.

“I was dead inside. I gave birth to a dead baby, to a corpse and it killed me. I was already crumbled by depression. Therefore, I just expected to drown deeper into the hole, until I hit the grown. Hard! Irrationally, I tried to kill me. This time I didn’t call for rescue, but Hans Petterson found me. Next I was admitted to a hospital and requested to stay. As usual the medicine and psychiatric treatment gradually did their task. I could be lucky that I commonly well respond to those drugs. It was an enduring process, fortunately I mostly recovered.” I sobbed.

“I could have been there for you, I always did.”

He crossed my arms on my belly and surrounded me closer into him. He was my shelter and I was free to continue.

“This phase wasn’t like the past ones. I couldn’t bear to be around you. I ached atrociously.” I swallowed a whimper. “I could see that you were suffering as well. And I knew I was the cause. I looked into your eyes, and I felt guilty. I killed our baby. I wasn’t able to help you. I couldn’t give you a family. I was worthless. Then I rebuffed you to spare me and to protect you. It was undeniably the worst

decision of my life, but I wasn’t myself anymore. I hope you could also forgive me for this.”

“I have nothing to forgive you. You are not responsible for our son’s death, and I always accepted your bipolarity. When we decided to build a family, I knew that would be difficult. However, I didn’t imagine that would be so demanding. I wasn’t ready to see you ache that much. You stopped your medication during a year. So at first, came the frenzy. Sometimes you were funny, but most of the time you scared me. Then depression settled and it was nastier than previously. I stayed and I did everything you asked, even when you threw me away. I tried out a new lifestyle, with someone else, just for you. And of course, it failed. I failed at everything. I didn’t take care of you, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I remembered the decision we made. We took it together and I was ready to do it. Through my whole pregnancy, when my hormones boggled with my mind, you supported me. You were with me. You were my beam of sunlight. During hours, you repeated that everything would be fine. You described our future life, how you would play football with our boy, or how I would dress our girl with cute little pink skirts. That was trivial details, but they meant the world to me. However, you couldn’t predict the end.” I whimpered, and saw my grim face into the window.

“Yes, I lied when I told you everything would be alright. Neither of us could have guessed what happened, neither of us was responsible. It was an accident!” He breathed laboriously.

“It took me a while to comprehend that. Although, I might never be able to give you a family some day.” I strangled myself with words.

“The results might be different this time, but I won’t ask you to either. I am not ready to see you go through all this again. I don’t wish you to ache. From now on, I just want to love you and be happy together.” He said burying his nose into the base of my neck.

I felt his tears on my collarbone.

“What will we do now?” I asked, “except having a puppy.”

He pivoted me so I could watch him and said a tad upset. “Now, I recognise you. You are clearly fitter. You are continually joking when something is serious.”

“I have been taught by the best.” I winked, “Well, seriously, you should get your clobber and move here. If you still value our marriage.”

“I didn’t sign the divorce papers anyway. I will just set one non-negotiable condition: you are not going to take refuge in silence as usual. We should talk about our past. Povel shouldn’t be put under a veil.” He said.

“I agree! Povel might not be with us anymore, but we are his parents. We grieved separately, now we have to keep grieving together. My disease will always exist. We have no other choice than deal with things one by one, and progressively resolved our issues.”

He smiled, “I was wrong, you changed. You are tougher and more splendid than ever.”

I caressed his jaws, “You changed too. These whiskers make you look more earnest.”

“What? Eh, I’m not going to shave!”

“Oh please don’t! I like it this way. You look hotter. I might need to feel it between my legs.”

“Is it a dare? We haven’t challenged each other since a long time.”

I beamed and guided his hands on my skin. And glided them under my shirt. He cradled me against the crisp window, hosed by the downpour. The streets were quiet and the other buildings would remain in the dark until the morning.

His fingers strolled on my belly, launching chills. My abdominal muscles taut one after the other under his light touch. He took his time and we caressed our lips with the same care, fairly, only exchanging our breaths and our sensations. I fondled his nape, his shoulder and his back. I spend as long as it pleased me on his waist tracing his V-line. He also shivered.

He unbuttoned my shirt and swung it behind my back until it landed on the floor. The coolness of the glass intensified my thrills. He started to wander his lips and the tip of his tongue on my neck, between my breasts, going down. He knelt in front of me and lifted my leg upon his shoulder.

“Oh yes, like that.” I begged.

His hands hold my waist firmly, and he spontaneously dipped his tongue in my pussy. I felt his beard brushing my inner thighs. His ardent and wet tongue swirled my clit. He rubbed, sucked and kissed repetitively. I handled myself on the window frame, I hotched his curls to stop him or encourage him, I was overly troubled. I moaned loudly. Living through this pleasure, wanting more.

Briskly, he stood up. He turned and pulled me against the window. I cried when my tensed nipples met the icy glass. He crumpled on my body and relished my nape, nipping every vein. He heftily cupped one of my breasts. With his legs,

he put mine wide apart, and insert two fingers in my pussy and circled. I groaned and pleaded. I felt his length slid between my butt cheeks. He was swollen and hot. To begin, he backed and forth while his fingers were still in me, and then his coke dive in me. I bend backwards, my breast crushed against the glass, my finger on my clit, while he pushed hard and fast. He held my hips with his hands and fucked me like he used to at the beginning of our relation. When we had to hide and sometimes shag in corners. I shouted when I orgasmed, it was like an explosion, sharp and intense. He came with me and I felt him pouring in me. He roared. Later he laughed and said.

“I don’t think these are things that should be seen by a puppy!”

I giggled. He caught me and carried me on his shoulder, heads down, the perfect position to admire his apple butt.

“Hey!” I shout first, “Wow! Hello sisters!” I briefly clapped with my hand.

“Come wife! Before making plans, I have other ideas that I want to experiment with you immediately!” He laughed and brought me to the bed.


End file.
